


1974: John and Roger

by LydianNode



Series: More Full of Weeping [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Major Illness, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, tw: suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: Each one of Freddie's breaths is a sigh of relief, a prayer of thanksgiving. His unspoken promise to Brian weighs heavily on his conscience even now that the danger is past. He can only imagine what John is thinking right now.Poor John, as honest and steadfast as any man living, had gone against every moral impulse in his being when he agreed to Brian's plan to take his own life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamaloneintheuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamaloneintheuniverse/gifts).



> This is a continuation of the "More Full of Weeping" series and specifically the chapter entitled "1974: Brian." I tried to fill in the plot as much as possible but it might help to read the other story first.
> 
> Dedicated with tremendous gratitude to iamaloneintheuniverse for the divine plot bunny - thank you so much, darling!

Of course the three of them crowd around the narrow hospital bed all afternoon, waiting eagerly for Brian to awaken from the lengthy, complicated surgery that had saved his life and his arm. 

Therefore, saving his life twice over. 

Each one of Freddie's breaths is a sigh of relief, a prayer of thanksgiving. His unspoken promise to Brian weighs heavily on his conscience even now that the danger is past. He can only imagine what John is thinking right now. 

Poor John, as honest and steadfast as any man living, had gone against every moral impulse in his being when he agreed to Brian's plan to take his own life.

John is leaning against Freddie, trembling. None of them has slept for more than a few minutes in the past three days, so part of it is exhaustion, but Freddie knows the deeper truth. He slips an arm around John's waist to hold him fast. 

Roger is the only one who has no knowledge of what could have happened. For once the most innocent of the quartet, he sits in the chair right next to Brian's bed and gazes at him with deep blue eyes gone bleary from sleeplessness and anxiety. 

Once in a while Brian stirs restlessly as he begins to surface from the liquid slumber of anaesthesia. Wires hook him up to monitors that flash and beep arythmically. One tube sends oxygen to his body through the cannula in his nostrils whist another drains a sickly yellowish fluid away from his bandaged arm. His hair is still crammed into a surgical cap, although a few wispy curls have escaped here and there, and without his lion's mane Brian's face is far, far too angular and sunken. 

When Brian's blue-veined eyelids begin to flicker, Freddie remembers his other promise. He tugs at Brian's ring, twisting it to get it off his own finger, and gently places it on Brian's right pinky. The finger is swollen to the point where the ring won't go all the way on, but at least Brian will see it. Freddie reaches past Roger and angles Brian's head toward the right. "That's it, my love, you're ready to come back to us," he croons. "It's time to open your eyes."  
  
"You can wake up now, Brian," Roger murmurs. His voice is even huskier than usual. "You can do it, c'mon." 

From the other side of the bed comes John's broken entreaty, so soft that Freddie can scarcely hear it: "Please." 

The beeping of the heart monitor speeds up slightly as Brian slowly stretches, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow a few times as if shaking off cobwebs. "Deep breaths," coaches Roger as he takes Brian's good hand in his own. "Slow, deep breaths, that's the way, that's good." He looks up at Freddie and John with an enormous smile. "He's squeezing my hand." 

Brian's narrow chest rises and falls, the bones too prominent under the hospital gown. He lets out a moaning breath, more of surprise than pain, and he opens his eyes. His pupils are dilated. An eclipse. His unfocused gaze falls on John, who swallows audibly as he tries to smile. "Tell me," Brian rasps. 

"It's okay," John chokes out, looking frustrated at his sudden loss of vocabulary. "You're okay." 

Freddie can't be sure how much he sees or comprehends at this moment, but he gently holds Brian's right hand up and points out the ring. "There, darling, just like I promised." 

Brian looks confused. "Is that...my hand?" 

When Roger answers, elated and laughing, the sound reminds Freddie of champagne bubbles. "Yes, it's your hand, you pillock, and it's attached to your arm, which is attached to your shoulder." 

It takes an obvious effort for Brian to wiggle his swollen fingers but he manages, a sweetly stoned smile breaking across his lips. He turns to John and gives him a little wave.

John's face goes white and he bites his lip as he waves back, then he claps his hand over his mouth as if holding back a sob. 

"Dear, why don't you step out and tell the nurse that he's awake?" Freddie asks quickly, all but shoving John through the door. Luckily Roger is too absorbed in Brian to have seen John's near-breakdown and Brian is too woozy to discern it. Freddie tries to cover his own emotions by leaning over and freeing Brian's hair from the plastic cap. He untangles the heavy mass of curls with his fingers as best he can. "There, that's more YOU," he whispers encouragingly. 

Brian's heavy eyes are fixed on Freddie's face as much as his drug-addled mind will allow. "Now you don't have to...help me," he says on an exhalation. 

It's too close to the story Roger can never hear, so Freddie deflects as he always does. "I absolutely LIVE to help people," he chirps. "Look, I'll do Roger next!" He moves to the other side of the bed and pretends to braid Roger's hair. It's greasy and lank - when was the last time any of them had bathed? - but the gesture makes Brian grin. 

Even better, it makes him shut up. 

A grandmotherly, grey-haired nurse bustles in and notes Brian's vital signs. As she checks the fluid level of the drain, she asks, "Are you in any pain?" 

Brian seems surprised by the question. It's so hard watching him like this, his extraordinary mind clouded almost beyond recognition. "Arm hurts," he says without any real interest, as if he were simply taking inventory in a warehouse. "Throat's sore." 

"That's all to be expected after surgery and intubation, dear," the nurse says. Her voice is cool and soothing; even Freddie starts to relax somewhat. "If you like, I can put something in your IV that will make it much better." 

"Yes, thank you," Brian murmurs. 

The nurse brushes some hair from his forehead and smiles down at him. "It's going to make you sleepy again, so say good night to your friends." 

"Mmm. G'night, Fred, Rog." Brian looks around and frowns. "Isn't Deacy coming back?" 

"Oh, he's probably getting tea or dancing down the corridors. You know our boy," says Freddie, hoping his banter amuses Brian and distracts Roger. "We'll say good night to him for you, darling." Brian doesn't respond, his eyes closing slowly as his breathing deepens. 

"He'll probably sleep through the night, if you'd like to go home and get some rest." The nurse's statement is directed mostly at Roger, who ignores her, so she places her hand firmly on his shoulder. "You won't sleep a wink in that chair." 

"I'll be fine." Roger doesn't turn toward her, doesn't relinquish his hold on Brian's hand. 

"Roger, have you heard one syllable this nice lady has said to you?" asks Freddie in exasperation. "You're no use to Brian if you fall over and get a concussion. Now please, let's find Deacy and go home for a while." 

Still not looking away from his friend, Roger shrugs. "You and Deacy can go home. I'll stay here. I don't want him to wake up and be all alone." 

The nurse steps away from Brian's bedside and crouches next to Roger. "What if I bring in a camp bed and put it right here, next to his? We're going to try and get Mr. May on his feet tomorrow and he'll need you to be strong enough to lean on." 

Roger only nods, but it makes the nurse smile as she stands up and passes Freddie. "I'll have an orderly set up the bed for him." 

"Thank you - you're a life saver," Freddie says, his voice nearly breaking with gratitude. "I don't know how to thank you."  
  
"Just go check on your other friend. He was white as a sheet when he came and got me." 

_Deacy. Fuck.  
_

"Of course I will. Rog, I'm going to get Deacy and then we'll come right back." Without waiting for a response, Freddie darts up and down the hallways. He peeks into closets and patient rooms with equal lack of discretion but there's no sign of John anywhere. 

He's too exhausted for this shit. 

Freddie leans against a wall, wishing he had a cigarette and a bottle of scotch, anything to calm his frantic heartbeat. He rubs his hand over his eyes. When his vision clears and he looks around, he notices a small sign that he missed the first time: Chapel. 

Of course. 

When Freddie opens the door, he finds John inside, sitting in one of the narrow pews with his head bowed over his clasped hands. He's so still that at first Freddie wonders if he's fallen asleep in that position. Freddie steps a little closer, noticing that John's shoulders are shaking and that his breath is coming in small, wet gasps. 

Torn between leaving quietly to give John privacy or enveloping him in a tight hug, Freddie shifts his weight back and forth a few times before softly clearing his throat. 

John turns around abruptly. Strands of his dark hair are sticking to his face where the tears have been falling, and his eyes are so full of misery that Freddie's own eyes start to tear up in sympathy. "John, love," he sighs as he rushes to sit beside him. By the time he takes his next breath he has John in his arms. 

He's thin but he's strong, and he clutches Freddie by the arms hard enough to leave marks where his fingers have been. Freddie rocks him back and forth, stroking his hair, letting him cry heartbrokenly. John has been frustrated and angry, sick and sad, but Freddie has never seen him show so much emotion. 

It takes at least half an hour for John to regain any composure. Finally he stops shaking and nestles into Freddie's embrace, the last few sobs turning into gasps. Freddie lifts John's chin and gazes into his teary eyes. "Better now?" he asks lovingly. 

John nods and wipes his face on the sleeve of his jacket. "Sorry," he mumbles. "Didn't mean for you to see that." 

"Don't be sorry - I'm surprised you held on this long!" Freddie hugs him again until John pushes away slightly. "Will you be all right?" 

Shrugging, John turns his face to the ceiling for a moment and catches his breath. "Brian's going to be all right, so yes, in that sense." His adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "I just can't believe what we almost had to do." 

Freddie's own throat tightens. "I know." 

"I should feel grateful, but I just don't. I feel..." He shakes his head. More tears are pooling in his grey-green eyes, shining silver in the light that pours in from the hallway. "I feel like I've committed a mortal sin. Like I'm going to be punished every moment for the rest of my life." 

"Oh, darling, no, no." Appalled, Freddie cups John's face in both hands. "What you were willing to do came from a place of pure love. And love isn't a sin, not ever." 

"I didn't want to," John says, his voice growing more agitated. "I told him no, at first, tried to talk him out of it, but you KNOW how stubborn he is, he just kept insisting. 'If you love me, Deacy, you'll help me go.' How was I supposed to answer that?" 

Freddie knows all too well. "We couldn't answer any other way than we did." He bows his head. He's so damn tired. It was supposed to be over now that Brian's surgery was a success, yet things were turning worse and worse by the minute. 

"Could you have done it, really?" John asks. "Stand by and watch him go and not let anyone intervene?" 

"Could you stand by and watch him struggle through life without the only thing he truly loves to do?" Freddie asks gently. That brings on more tears even though John struggles to hold them back. 

"I don't know!" he wails. "I just wish none of this had ever happened! I wish he'd asked you and not me! I wish he'd told Roger--" 

"So do I." 

The voice comes from the hallway. Freddie and John both turn at the same instant to find Roger leaning against the door jamb.


	2. Chapter 2

_Shit. Shit, shit shit.  
_

Freddie's heart is pounding. This wasn't supposed to happen. "Oh, God, Roger," Freddie gasps. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough."

"Why are - did - is - did something happen to Brian?" John stammers, his eyebrows rising almost to his hairline in alarm.

"They're just changing his catheter. I didn't think that was something he'd want me to witness. Not that this is much better."

Roger strides into the chapel and pushes the door until it closes with a dull thud. The only light in the room comes from bulbs illuminating a stained glass window, painting Roger's ashen face with blues and golds. "So what was the plan, then? Put Brian down as if he were a racehorse with a broken leg?" His laugh is high-pitched, nearly hysterical, at odds with the cold anger in his eyes. "Do I need to hire a bodyguard if I ever sprain a wrist, or will a restraining order be enough?"

"It's not like that," John says, holding up a hand in protest. "Last night he asked me - us - to help him, if the surgery went badly."

"Help?" Roger leans down over John, practically spitting in his face. "What were you gonna do, smother him with his pillow?"

"Roger, don't." Freddie's intervention is fruitless in the wake of Roger's fury. He shoves Freddie aside and puts both hands on John's shoulders.

"I should beat the fucking shit out of you!" Roger shouts as he shakes John over and over. "How could you even THINK of--"

"ROGER!" Freddie grabs Roger from behind, knocking him off-balance. They struggle against one another but Freddie's grip is strong and Roger's exhaustion works against him. "You need to listen!" Spinning Roger around and shoving him into the pew in front of John, Freddie pins him in place by pressing his hands against his chest. He can almost feel the throbbing pulse of Roger's heart.

John stretches out his arms to Roger, who bats them away. "You have it wrong," he declares as Roger tries to wriggle out of Freddie's grip. "Listen to us. Please."

"Take your fucking hands off of me, Fred!"

"Are you going to sit and listen like a reasonable person?"

Scowling, Roger nods. "But you'd better make this incredibly convincing."

Freddie takes a few steps back with his arms folded over his chest, ready to stop Roger if he has another outburst. "It happened last night, when you were back at the flat. I wasn't there at first, but Brian talked to John." He raises an eyebrow at John: _Are you okay to talk about this?  
_

John takes over. "Brian asked me about the power of attorney forms we all signed for one another before the tour. He wanted to know what I could and couldn't do for him, legally."

"Like killing him? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's illegal," spits Roger.

"Roger, shut the fuck up and let me finish." John never, ever speaks in that tone, and it evidently surprises Roger into silence. "He was terrified at the thought of losing his arm. He couldn't imagine going through life never being able to play again - to him, it really was a fate worse than death. Remember when he first said he didn't even want the debridement, that he'd rather just die of septic shock?"

"You're the one who talked him into it," Freddie reminds Roger, kindly. "Because you knew there was a chance to save him."

Roger snorts out a humourless laugh. "As opposed to just letting him die? What were my other options? He was looking to us for help, and the two of you just stood there like fish with your mouths open." Roger lets his jaw drop and puts on an exaggeratedly baffled expression. "So it was up to me to help him decide whether to live or die. Thank you SO much for that!"

_Fuck.  
_

"Roger, love, I'm so sorry," Freddie moans, miserable and guilt-ridden. "I didn't - WE didn't mean to put this all on you, we wouldn't have done it for the world."

When John places his hand on Roger's shoulder only to have it shrugged violently off, he leans forward and peers at Roger's face instead. "Fred's right. We were in shock. We'd just gotten our minds wrapped around hepatitis, and then there was gangrene, and...well, I just froze."

"But you were brilliant," continues Freddie. "I've never seen you so focused on anything as you were on making Brian understand that he had to at least try. He's such a stubborn bastard, and you're probably the only person in the world he'd actually listen to."

If Roger is at all mollified by what his friends were saying, it doesn't show outwardly. He casts a sullen glance at John. "So you couldn't help him decide to live, but you were right on board to help him die."

"I wasn't!" cries John. "Jesus, Roger, what do you think I am?"

"I'd be happy to tell you," Roger growls.

"Stop this!" Freddie flings himself down next to Roger and grabs him by the upper arms. "Let John talk. You can tear into me later, but let him tell you--"  
  
"Fuck you!" Roger squirms but can't get away. Freddie lets him thrash until he tires himself out.

John takes up the narrative again, his voice surprisingly steady. "He asked if I had the power to stop a medical team from intervening if something went wrong. I thought he meant the surgery, but he was three steps ahead of me." He smiles ruefully. "It's hard to keep up with Brian's mind, isn't it, Roger?"

Roger is silent, his body beginning to go lax against Freddie's. He bobs his head once, indicating that John should resume the story.

"Of course he wanted to live, but he couldn't bear the thought of never playing guitar again. His plan was to save up all the pain and sleeping pills until he had enough to take all at once and...end it." John inhales sharply. "He asked me to ensure that the hospital staff wouldn't intervene. He made me promise to be there for him."

Realisation dawns on Roger's face. "He was...oh, my God. He was going to commit suicide. Right in front of you." He turns to John, shaking his head slowly. "But you're...I mean, your family's..."

"Catholic. And suicide, or helping someone with it, is a mortal sin."

Roger's chin trembles and tears form in his eyes. "You would've done that." It's not a question. "For Brian. Deacy, you'd..."

"Hey, I'm in a rock-and-roll band. I'm probably going to Hell anyway." John reaches out once more and this time Roger lets him take his hand and hold it.

Roger turns to Freddie. His voice is small and rough when he asks, "When did he tell you?"

"Later. Sort of by accident. I tried to talk him out of it, told him about singing and writing and all the things he COULD do, but he wasn't having it. I think he wanted me to help Deacy stay strong enough to let him go."

Freddie and John give Roger a few moments to digest the information. Roger whispers, "But he didn't say anything to me."

"He didn't want you to know, dear," Freddie says soothingly. "He wanted to spare you."

"Didn't he trust me?" There's a world of unspoken meaning behind those few words.

"I think he didn't trust himself," murmurs John. "I think he understood that if he knew how much he was about to hurt you, he wouldn't have been able to go through with it."

Freddie nods his assent. "It wasn't about not trusting you, not at all. It was about trying to protect you from something that would've broken your heart."

"I think it's too late for that." Roger slumps over, almost collapsing in the wooden pew. When Freddie pulls him in close, Roger lets out a long, agonised cry that pierces Freddie's soul.

"Oh, darling, it's all right, it's all right." He kisses the crown of Roger's head, breathing in the scent of something quintessentially Roger.

"I'd have done anything he asked," Roger manages to say between sobs, clinging tightly to Freddie. "I'd have been there if he asked. I'd have held his hand until his last breath." 

"We know," John assures him, stroking his hand with his thumb. "He wanted you to think he just slipped away peacefully."

They sometimes forget how very quick Roger's mind is, how rapidly he can take threads of a narrative and weave them into a tapestry. "He wouldn't have made me say goodbye to him." He squeezes John's hand as he looks up into Freddie's eyes, his lips still trembling. "But then I wouldn't really be there for the two of you, because I wouldn't know the truth about what you were going through."

That hadn't occurred to Freddie during his confused, desperate conversation with Brian, but hearing Roger's words is like opening a wound afresh. From the way his face falls, despondent, it's clear that John feels the same.

Roger bites down on his lip. He tries to turn away but he's held in place, gently now, by Freddie's palm against his cheek. When the disconsolate blue eyes meet his, Freddie has to choke back his own sympathetic tears. "Brian is alive because you made him see reason about having the surgery. That's all that matters now." Roger sniffs but he doesn't argue. Freddie runs a finger along the stubble on Roger's upper lip, then lightly taps his nose. "You look utterly knackered, my love. Have you slept at all?"

Roger smiles crookedly and shakes his head. Emotion and exhaustion have taken a toll on him. His eyelids are beginning to droop. "I shouldn't have been gone this long. He might be wondering where I am."

"Roger, he won't be awake anytime soon, and even if he does he probably won't even know where HE is," John says gently as he releases Roger's hand.

"If it'll make you feel better, let's get you back to his room." Freddie stands up and helps Roger to his feet. "Are you coming with us, Deacy?"

John shifts, leaning forward in the pew with his hands folded. Even though there are dark circles under his eyes, his expression is somehow tranquil. "You go. I'd like to stay here for a while."

_Let them find peace where they can.  
_

"Will you put in a good word for me?" Roger asks, almost shyly. "Even though I'm an arsehole?"

"Especially because you're an arsehole." He smirks amiably at Roger as he says it, then takes a deep breath and bows his head.

Freddie wraps an arm around Roger's shoulder and walks him back to Brian's room. There's an actual hospital bed set up next to Brian's rather than a folding bed, and someone has lowered the bars between them. Roger takes off his shoes and climbs into the bed, turning on his side to face Brian. "We're gonna have a little chat, Brian, you and I, once you're on your feet again," Roger mumbles around a series of yawns.

Feeling as if his world is finally returning to its proper axis, Freddie smiles fondly as he watches Roger relax after all the tensions of the past three days. "I'd like to take Deacy back to the flat. Will you be all right by yourself tonight, or should I come back?" he asks, but Roger's deep breathing tells him that he's already fallen asleep.

Gently, careful not to wake either man, Freddie lifts Roger's hand and places it over Brian's. He wishes he could crawl into the bed with them, to hold them and keep them safe forever. He wishes he had Brian's inner strength, or John's faith, or Roger's unflinching sense of duty, something to help anchor him in these turbulent hours.

What he does have is a heart big enough to care for all of his boys. Tonight he'll feed John and put him to bed, then he'll pack a bag with fresh street clothes for Roger and a comfortable dressing gown for Brian. In the morning he'll arrive at the hospital bearing hot tea and pastries, flowers and a radio, whatever it will take to keep his little family comfortable.

But most of all, he'll make certain that Brian will awaken to find his friends gathered around his bed, waiting eagerly to welcome him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - the perils of not having a beta reader mean it takes forever to edit. Thank you so much for reading and for all your lovely comments!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lydiannode - come talk to me!


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